Bohanin's Last Days Read Online Free Page A

forehead and smiled. “A few. For the illustrious Captain Bohanin, I suppose the best. At no extra charge.”
    Bohanin wondered if the “best in the house” meant less than the usual number of bed bugs that Gunnison had cultivated.
    Gunnison was Bohanin’s age and just as crippled. The Plains took an early toll on most men. Gunnison had twisted his back and walked in a stiff, hunched position. There was always an odor of buffalo hunters. It was the result of so many years of engaging in the rough existence of the gritty trade that men like Gunnison really didn’t know what clean was. A semi-annual bath had served then and it served just as well now, in spite of the fact that most of his business was conducted in the close quarters of a hot, badly ventilated frame building. Gunnison was a good friend. He had been with Bohanin at the Battle of Coon Creek when the cavalry had saved some buff hunters from annihilation by Kiowas in ‘69. When Bohanin’s horse had been shot from under him, Gunnison rushed to his aid. In spite of Gunnison’s faults, Bohanin never forgot how the spike hunter had drug him free with arrows and bullets raining down upon them. Other than Chancellorsville during the war and the Battle of the Willows in ‘68, it was one of Bohanin’s closest calls.
    Gunnison smiled as Bohanin took a sip of the dark bitter brew. The spike hunter spoke through a jagged harelip.
    â€œWell, now that you’re a man of leisure, what are your plans?”
    â€œI’m heading for California by way of the Grand Canyon.”
    â€œThere’s Apaches down there, Captain. Mind yourself or you’ll be buzzard bait fer sure,” Gunnison said.
    Bohanin nodded and tried another drink of the beer, hoping it would improve. “I’ll stay way north of them. I’ll cut west from Fort Garland and see the canyon from the north end.”
    â€œYou might look up old Tom Tobin when in Garland. I hear his daughter’s married to Kit Carson’s kid and they’re storekeeping down there,” Gunnison said.
    Bohanin never thought much of Tobin. The old scout and mountain man had too hot a temper and too mean a mouth. But Bohanin knew Gunnison thought a lot of Tobin and didn’t want to offend him.
    â€œYeah, I’ll have to do that. I’ll give him your regards if I run across him.”
    â€œI’d appreciate that. I’d like to empty a keg with old Tom myself,” Gunnison said.
    Bohanin turned and looked at the filthy room. “How’s business?” he asked.
    â€œCan’t complain. Don’t get much town trade except for the gents that come by for a drink and horse feed. The women can’t abide the look of the place. But I’ll be damned if I’ll change my ways for a baggle of snooty skirts. I wouldn’t want them to smudge themselves.”
    â€œDon’t approve, huh?” Bohanin said.
    Gunnison shook his head and poured himself a beer. “Made me get rid of my whore, ya know. Yeah, old Prairie Dog Woman. Said if I was going to keep her around that I ought to marry her.”
    Bohanin smiled. “Why didn’t you?”
    â€œJudas priest. Even I got some pride. She weren’t too bad if a man needed some comfort in the night. That was the ugliest squaw I believe I ever did see. Hell, I bought her for a buff hide. And the feller that sold her to me acted like he got the best end of the bargain.”
    â€œBut you kept her around for so many seasons, Buck. I would think that a fellow would become attached after a while,” Bohanin said.
    â€œI did miss her some last winter. Had to put an extra robe on the bed. But, she was past her prime if she ever had one. Nobody was willing to pay for her favors. One feller even suggested that I pay him,”
    Bohanin looked at his full mug of beer but decided that he would wait a bit before drinking any more. Gunnison would probably just fill it again and he